Gonna Be A Fireman When The Floods Roll Back
by Misato
Summary: Firefighting is Dean's dream job and he's damn good at it – still, there's something about his most recent call he can't quite shake. Or to be more specific, a certain blue-eyed rescue he can't keep out of his dreams. Dean/Castiel, set somewhere mid-S5.


There was so much smoke Dean couldn't even see the path to the bedroom anymore, and his sergeant blowing up his radio wasn't helping. "Singer, quit calling me or the radio's gonna have an accident."

"I gave you an order to vacate," he heard back, the unspoken _you idjit _loud and clear. "There's a backdraft coming and unless you want to be crispy fried you need to clear the structure." At least Bobby was learning, he'd been written up a couple of weeks ago for berating the crews over the radio. Now Bobby managed to keep it to the station house, even when they all really did deserve it.

Like the way Dean knew he did right now. "I'll clear after I get the last vic," he said, pressing forward toward the heat. This had to be the way, the smoke was heavier and the heat almost blistering against the few patches of skin he had exposed to it. The rest of the crew had cleared out already and Dean was glad for it; if this did turn out to be a snipe hunt there was no reason anyone else should be dragged down with him.

But Dean knew it wasn't. He could feel the certainty of it coiling in his stomach; someone was in here waiting for him, behind a locked door or at the end of a hallway, he knew it as well as he knew his own name. If he cleared out now he'd be as guilty as whoever'd put the match to the building in the first place.

He could hear Bobby starting to argue again and turned the radio off; he knew that would earn him an automatic write up but he couldn't have the distraction, not now. He finally found the end of the hallway, his hand brushing against the door knob as he felt around. Even through his gloves he could feel how hot the room beyond was; light flickered under the door, that meant active fire and he didn't have a hose, nothing to douse it - if he did break down the door the rush of air entering would stoke everything even hotter until Dean knew he'd be just as trapped.

It didn't matter. The desperate sense that someone was beyond that door waiting propelled him forward before he could even think about how stupid he was being. The door was locked and didn't give when he put his shoulder to it; he took out his ax and gave the door two solid hits, enough that he felt the wood start to splinter. That was what he needed; Dean took a step back, taking just a split second to steel himself, and then kicked the door all the way off its hinges.

The rush of heat hit him like a truck barreling toward him. Dean took an instinctive step back, his arm up over his face, then forced himself to take one step forward, then another. Once over the threshold Dean could see the room was destroyed, the bed entirely engulfed and fire traveling up the walls. Even through his breather and over the stench of burning he could smell the sweet scent of oil, some kind of accelerant Dean couldn't place right away. He couldn't spare the time to think about it; over the flames Dean caught a flash of something tan lying on the floor and pressed forward, wincing at how the floor creaked under him. He'd had weakened floorboards give way under his weight before but he couldn't waste time being careful; he was close enough to see his victim now, a dark haired man crumpled on the floor next to the bed, probably overcome by the smoke before he could get out of the room. The trenchcoat the guy was wearing was starting to smolder but by some miracle the flames themselves had managed to ring around him, sparing him the worst of it although Dean could tell if he'd taken a minute longer the guy's luck would have run out. As it was he was limp when Dean picked him up and there wasn't time to check if he was breathing; Dean just put the guy over his shoulder and rushed out, thumbing his radio back on. "I got one vic with me, heading back now."

Dean could _feel _Bobby holding back from yelling at him. "Alive or DRT?"

Dean hated sometimes that they found victims dead right there enough to need an acronym for it. Now that they were out of the room he spared the second to ease his glove off and press his fingers to the man's neck, relief washing through him when he found the weak, rapid pulse. "Alive," he answered, taking his breather off and pressing it to the man's face. "Can't tell if he's circling the drain or not, but he's alive now."

"Then get out of there before that changes."

Dean had never been so happy to follow an order; he heard the ceiling of the bedroom they'd just vacated cave in as he straightened back up. He'd shifted position to put his rescue back over his shoulders when the man's eyes fluttered open, bleary blue eyes staring up at him. "Hey!" Dean said, shouting to be heard over the flames. "I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? You're gonna be fine." He saw the man's lips move under the breath mask; for a split second Dean thought the unheard word looked like his name before shaking that thought off as ridiculous, this poor son of a bitch had no idea who he was. "You just keep breathing and stay with me." The man's eyes drifted closed again and Dean put him back over his shoulder, trying to remember the way out before they both suffocated.

It felt like years before Dean stumbled through the front door even though he knew it couldn't have been more than thirty seconds. The backdraft they'd been fearing finally erupted when he was a few steps past the porch and Dean dropped to his knees, cradling his rescue against his chest to protect him from the heat. The combination of the draft and the lack of oxygen he'd been operating under for the past few minutes dazed him; it took Dean a few moments to realize the paramedics were already there. He shook his head to clear out the last few cobwebs and let them take his rescue from his arms; the man's eyes were open again, wide blue circles that locked onto Dean's face as the paramedics loaded him on the gurney. Dean nodded to him, trying to let him know he was in good hands, he was safe, and when that didn't quell the panic he leaned forward and gave the guy's hand a tight squeeze. He'd seen rescues fight the paramedics out of panic before and all Dean wanted was to see this guy safe and on his way to the hospital.

After a few seconds Dean could see the guy start to calm, still staring at Dean but letting the paramedics do their jobs. Dean pulled back to give them room and staggered over to the truck, waving off the paramedics starting to buzz around him and almost getting run over by the hose crew making their way into the building. He leaned against the truck and sucked down lungfuls of sweet fresh air.

He didn't look up when Bobby settled in next to him. "That was _stupid_."

Dean just shrugged. "Guy's alive. That's what we're here for, right Sarge?"

Bobby grunted and started barking orders into his radio, letting Dean enjoy having won the argument. It wasn't long until all that was left was the mop up but Dean didn't pay much attention; the rescue's eyes stayed on him the whole time the paramedics worked him over, right until the last second when they loaded him into the ambulance and Dean made sure he didn't look away. Right before they closed the hatch Dean saw that panic start to creep back and he nodded again, trying to reassure him from across the yard. He never knew if it worked; the doors closed and Dean lost sight of him, trying to ignore the little flutter of his own panic at that. Nothing more than fading adrenaline.

Dean startled when Bobby clapped on hand on his shoulder. "You ready to head back, hero, or you planning on staying the night?"

Dean grinned and climbed back onto the truck, catching himself trying to follow the path the ambulance had taken before settling back in his seat and letting exhaustion overwhelm him.

Good day.

888

Dean felt _great_. He'd had a solid twelve hours of sleep and two days of nothing to do stretched out before him before he started his next shift; he cracked open a beer and threw himself down on the couch, ready to enjoy the rare luxury of not being on duty on a football Sunday.

And of course the second he got settled there was a knock at the door. Dean hauled himself up and stomped over to the door, regretting that he hadn't kept his plans for the day secret; he loved the guys, they were his brothers in arms and all that but he'd just spent forty-eight hours straight with them all. He didn't need them descending on him on his off days too, he didn't care how much bigger his TV was than the one at the station house.

The building rant died unsaid when he opened the door only to see someone with a pair of very familiar blue eyes. "Oh. Hey."

"Hello, Dean."

Dean felt a little flicker of wariness rush up his spine. "How'd you know my name?" _Or where I live?_he thought to himself, keeping the thought quiet.

The guy tilted his head to the side, as if he didn't quite understand the question. "I...made an inquiry."

Dean sighed, wondering who at the house had given that out because they sure as hell weren't supposed to. Too many crazies out there. "Something I can do?"

"I wanted to thank you for coming to my rescue."

Dean relaxed. Sure, the rescues weren't supposed to be able to track them down without say so, but Dean couldn't deny that he was glad this one had. "Hey. It's cool. Just doing my job." He grinned when he realized the guy was wearing the same coat as the day of the fire. "Dude," he said, tracing some black scorch marks down the sleeve. "Might want to think about getting a new coat."

The guy's brow furrowed, like he was worried Dean might take it then and there. "I like my coat."

Dean just shook his head, opening the door wider. "At least you got the smoke smell out, God knows I have a hard time with that." He nodded back to the couch and the beers. "C'mon. Grab a beer, catch some of the game. Gotta admit, I'd been wondering how you made out, you looked pretty bad at the site."

"I should make a full recovery."

"Good to hear, Cas," Dean said, closing the door behind him and tossing over a beer. "Let that settle for a second..." Dean frowned, realizing he'd lost track of the conversation somewhere along the way. "When did I find out your name?"

"I told it to you. A while ago," Cas said, examining the label on the bottle like it was written in Sanskrit.

And Dean could almost remember that. Jesus, and he hadn't even started drinking yet. "You did, didn't you. Castiel, right? Cas is short for that."

"I'd begun to wonder if you remembered my full name," Cas said, giving Dean an almost amused sideways look. He settled down on one side of the couch and squinted at the screen as Dean turned on the game, formal compared to the way Dean sprawled across the other side. "I don't understand this game."

"Dude. It's football." Cas' brow furrowed again and Dean sighed. "For real?" Castiel looked a little embarrassed at that and Dean spent most of the first quarter giving him a Cliff's Notes version of the rules.

"So it's a sort of ritualized combat?" Cas said, nodding like it was starting to sink in.

"Yeah, something like that." _You nerd_, Dean thought but didn't say.

"Why did they change who's playing quarterback?"

"They're running a Wildcat so they brought in the guy who does that. It's a kind of special way of lining up."

Castiel nodded. "The defense is going to...blitz, you called it."

"Again? Jesus."

"They're lined up the same way as the previous times."

"Good eye." During the delay while they scraped the poor quarterback off the field Dean got up for more beer. "See, you're getting it. Let's just hope they don't go into overtime, since they changed the rules that's a whole new amount of bullshit." He handed Cas another bottle and opened his own, wondering how much he was going to owe the rest of the guys for all these blown bets.

"How long have you dreamed of being a firefighter?"

Dean blinked at Castiel, wondering where that question had come from. "That's pretty direct."

"But it is true, isn't it?"

Dean relaxed back against the arm of the couch. Probably the guy was just like that. "Since I was a little kid," he admitted. "When we lived back in Kansas the guy next door did that and I thought it was just so cool. When I was three that was all I wanted to do when I grew up."

"And because of your mother." Dean almost choked on his beer. Castiel just looked at him in that even way he had, like they weren't discussing anything more charged than football scores. "Because you wish you could have saved her from the fire."

Dean's mouth felt like a desert. "Who told you about my mom?"

"You did."

Dean scowled at that, because he sure as hell didn't _remember _telling this guy anything about that, but then Dean blinked and it seemed like the number of bottles on the table had doubled. "Jesus. I must've drunk more than I thought," he said, shaking his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess it has something to do with my mom, too."

"And now you've been able to achieve that dream."

"You're weird, Cas. But yeah, I guess so." They spent another quarter watching the Lions get trampled before Dean noticed Cas fidgeting. "You okay?"

Cas let out a heavy sigh. "I came here to tell you something," he said, his brows drawing together again. "Something important. I just can't seem to _remember_."

"Sounds like you had more to drink than you'd thought, too," Dean said, shaking his head. "I'm gonna order some pizza, get some food in us. Anything you're partial to?"

Castiel just frowned again as Dean pushed himself off the couch. "I...no?"

"Dude, I can deal with you not knowing football but you _have _to know what kind of pizza you like." Dean grabbed his phone from the table and checked the menu he had tacked up to the wall. "Come on, take a look." Dean was already halfway through his part of the order when he felt Castiel come up behind him and moved over to let Cas have a look. "My treat. Go ahead, get anything you want."

Castiel never looked at the menu. For a second he stared at Dean, his eyes wide and almost wild, then he stepped forward and kissed Dean on the lips. Dean was so surprised he dropped his phone; he could hear the girl from the pizza place still talking as Cas pressed him against the wall, his mouth hot and open against Dean's and Dean couldn't help responding to it. Cas moaned when he opened his mouth to return the kiss, a little shiver running through him. Dean felt like he'd been waiting forever to hear Cas moan like that.

When he finally pulled back Castiel looked every bit as surprised as Dean. "I didn't..." he whispered, breathing hard around the words. "This isn't why I came here."

"Shh," Dean said, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "It's cool. It's not like I'm complaining."

Castiel shook his head. "No. No, I had a message for you, something of great import," he said, even as his hands slid past Dean's waistband.

"You wanna stop?" Castiel looked at him like Dean had asked him if he wanted to stop breathing and that was all the answer Dean needed. This time Dean kissed him, a slow, deep, take-your-damn-time kiss as he started herding Cas back toward the couch. Halfway through Castiel let out another moan, a down in his throat one that was almost a growl as he gave up trying to figure out why this was happening and threw himself fully into the kiss. When they managed to get back to the couch Cas all but shoved Dean backwards onto it, kneeling over him to straddle his lap.

Dean wound one hand around Castiel's tie as Cas started kissing up his neck, Dean leaning his head against the back of the couch to give him better access. "Dean," he whispered, as Dean started undoing his shirt buttons, closing his eyes with a breathy sigh as Dean kissed a trail down his chest. Dean grinned, grabbing a handful of Cas' hair as he pulled him back into another messy kiss. "_Dean._"

Dean woke with a start on the couch, the droning voices of the football announcers the only sound in the room. He pushed himself up but he was alone, with nothing to indicate that he'd ever been anything _but _alone. "Way too many beers," he said, shaking his head. Maybe he'd see what the other guys were up to today after all.

When he looked around for his phone to give them a call it was nowhere to be seen; after a few minutes of tearing the room apart he finally found it on the floor by where he kept the pizza menu. He crouched down to pick it up and felt a moment of vertigo, something buzzing around at the back of his mind like he'd forgotten something, something important.

The moment passed and Dean didn't give it another thought.

888

Dean stretched out in his baby's back seat as much as he could, feeling so boneless and wrung out he didn't even care about the seat leather sticking to his chest when he tried to move. "Fuck, Cas. I think you almost killed me."

Dean felt Cas shift above him, his ragged breath hot against Dean's neck. "I'll get better with practice."

"Dude, that was not in any way a complaint." Cas was still half inside him and every time he moved just the slightest bit Dean felt little shudders run through him, aftershocks of the first orgasm that had ever actually hit hard enough to make him pass out. He reached up behind and grabbed a handful of Cas' sweaty hair, pulling him back down against him. "Stay there a while. Not ready for you to move just yet."

Castiel complied with a soft little huff of breath, his weight easing down against Dean's back. Dean reached his hand back to trail across his hip and down his thigh, the sigh Cas let out already getting him hard again. "Told you I wouldn't let you die a virgin, Cas."

"Yes, you did." He felt Castiel prop himself up on one elbow and a second later the feather-soft touch of his fingertip trailing across his back, like Cas was drawing lines from freckle to freckle.

Dean grinned; he'd had girls who'd liked to do that from time to time but he hadn't expected Cas to be into it too. "Guess you like the freckles, huh Cas?"

"I should, I drew them there." Dean squirmed as Cas hit a ticklish spot and Cas paid it no mind, continuing with his careful inventory. "I had to be very careful. It took a great deal of time." He leaned back over Dean, kissing between his shoulder blades. "Dean," he whispered, a new urgency in his voice that sent ice down Dean's spine. "I remembered what I needed to tell you."

He leaned down further, close enough to whisper into Dean's ear. "The circle wasn't set correctly. The flames are spreading. Dean, you need to _wake up_."

Dean startled awake in his bunk at the station house, breathing like he'd just run a marathon, the sheets soaked with sweat. He didn't have time to think about what the _hell_that had been, though; the call alarm was blaring and it was time to get to work.

888

Dean had lost the rest of the crew sometime around the last bend, he swore half these probies couldn't tell their right from their left. He was just glad the nightclub had been closed before going up in flames, what a mess that would have been.

All the same, they had to sweep the place; people could have come in early to set up and people snuck into these places all the time. It was slow going but he'd cleared the second floor office already, all he had to do was check the lounge area and he'd be home free.

There was good reason why everyone hated to get the call that there was a fire in a nightclub or a warehouse; the places were always built on the cheap and had the average structural integrity of a house of cards. Dean didn't know why he'd expected this one to be any different – he had barely a split-second between hearing the floorboards start to creak under his boots to the whole floor giving way under him. He didn't even have time to scream.

It took Dean a few seconds to realize he wasn't falling. He'd squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact but opened them now; the flames around him were still, frozen like someone had hit pause on a reality remote. He stumbled forward and the floor held.

When he caught his breath he looked up and saw Castiel standing against the far wall, his head tilted to the side and an almost amused look on his face. "Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas." Dean pushed himself back to his feet. "Guess I'm dreaming again, huh?"

"You could say that, yes." The flames roared back to life and Dean flinched back. "Dean. Look at me."

Dean looked up and saw shadowy wings spread on the wall behind Castiel; everywhere the shadow touched the flames snuffed out like a giant hand extinguishing a candle. The effect spread all around until it formed a ring around them, a safe zone the flames couldn't touch. "Nice trick."

Castiel shrugged. "Dreams are easy."

Dean dropped his helmet to the floor; if this was a dream it wasn't like he needed. it. "Not the first dream I've had about you lately, y'know," he said, looking Cas up and down as he threw his gloves down, too. "Always seem to miss the good part, though," he said, intentionally standing inches away. "Kind of wouldn't mind picking up where the first one stopped, actually." Dean had never had someone look at him the way Cas did right before Dean leaned in and kissed him, like he wanted Dean so much he glowed with it. Dean groaned when he felt Cas' tongue in his mouth and pressed him harder against the wall. Cas undid the fastenings on Dean's coat, Dean wasting no time shrugging out of the heavy thing and letting it drop to the floor.

"These clothes are becoming on you," Cas said, already breathing hot and fast as he licked his way up Dean's neck. He slid Dean's suspenders from his shoulders as he sucked on Dean's lower lip.

"Pretty eager to get me out of them, though," Dean answered back, making sure Cas could tell he had absolutely no problem with that.

"It's true," Cas said, like Dean had caught him at something. "I've...I've been having a hard time keeping my mind on doing anything else."

"Yeah, that's pretty much how this works." Dean finished unbuttoning Castiel's shirt and scraped his nails lightly across Cas' stomach before moving on to unbuckling his belt. "Think this is about where we left off, right?"

Castiel's head leaned back as Dean undid the button on his suit pants and slid one hand down past his waistband and until he could wrap his fingers around Cas' cock, letting out a breathy sigh as Dean stroked his fingers up Cas' shaft. "Feels good, huh?" Dean murmured into his ear, grinning as Castiel nodded. Cas started grinding against Dean's hand, reaching under Dean's shirt to scratch his nails down his back. Dean braced himself against the wall, unintentionally pressing his hand against one shadowy wing and Cas moaned, his eyes going very wide. "Oh shit, you felt that?" He traced his hand just along the edge of the shadow and Cas shivered, clutching onto Dean like he was worried about holding himself up. "This is an awesome dream."

He watched Castiel eyes get even wider as he worked himself into a rhythm, running his hand up and down Cas' shaft and rubbing his thumb along the edge of the head as he kept his other hand against that shadowy wing. "Had a dream about you and me in the back of my car," he said into Cas' ear, pitching his voice low, turning the words into a filthy promise. "Felt like you took me _apart_." He sped up the rhythm and kissed Castiel, swallowing down the answering moan. "Feels like I should return the favor."

He could feel Cas already shaking right on the edge and Dean pulled back, making sure to brush his lips against Castiel's in a teasing kiss in the process. He wanted to see those blue eyes go wide as he came.

Dean pressed him against the wall to make that easier, moving his hand from the wing to hold his head steady. He ran his thumb along Castiel's parted lips, relishing each fast little gasp Cas let out, the heat of his breath hitting Dean almost like the flames surrounding them. He pumped his fist up Cas' shaft one more time and grinned when Cas' head snapped back, his eyes going unfocused as he came over Dean's hand. He braced one hand against Dean's shoulder, his legs shaking so hard Dean didn't know how they hadn't already buckled under him. Dean pressed back against him, grinding against Cas' hip as Cas draped himself himself over Dean and moaned into the curve of his neck. "That was fun, Cas," he whispered into Cas' ear. He stroked his fingertips along the shadow wing again, kissing Cas when he moaned and clutched onto Dean, the wing itself shuddering. "Let me know when you're ready for round two."

"_Dean_," was all he said back, as if that was the only word in the world he could remember. Dean didn't think he could ever get tired of hearing Cas say his name like that. He felt Castiel's finger trail across the nape of his neck and along his jaw as he pushed himself back up straight against the wall. He kissed Dean gently, slow and lingering, like Dean was fine wine he wanted to make last. "The flames are very close," he whispered, the strange tone in his voice hitting Dean like icy needles under his skin. "You need to wake up. Please, Dean."

"Cas? Cas, what's wrong?" Castiel's breathing had gone ragged, as if he suddenly couldn't get enough air.

"Just wake up." The shadow wings flared out and he let out a strangled gasp, his eyes impossibly wide. _Scared_, Dean realized. _Something has him scared._Before Dean could even say another word flames erupted from Castiel's eyes, the ring of fire around them contracting until it was barely wide enough to hold them. The flames consumed Castiel before he even had time to scream, reducing him to glowing ash and a pair of enormous wings scorched into the wall.

Dean stumbled backward until his back was almost against the flames, the sick coiling _dread_ in his stomach worse than any fire could ever be. He couldn't take his eyes from the wings. "Wake up," he whispered to himself. This was a dream, he _knew_ that. The burned out wings, the fire, none of that had _happened_. "Wake up," he said again, curling his hands into fists. He squeezed his eyes closed and focused on that stark fear on Castiel's face. "_Wake up._"

Dean was standing and he wasn't; he was on the second floor of a nightclub and lying on the floor of an abandoned warehouse, both truths overlapping each other until he wanted to curl up and wait for the vertigo to pass. Images flickered behind his eyes like scenes from a half-remembered nightmare: photographs tacked to a motel wall, something strange about them that made him pick up a phone. The word _ambush_whispered in a dark room seconds before the crackle of a fire igniting. Dean feeling his back pressed against a wall, a tattooed creature advancing on him with one hand outstretched, its skin cold like the touch of a corpse.

_Dean! Dean, don't fall asleep. Stay awake. You have to stay awake._

Dean remembered the tattooed thing _smiling_at him.

_Djinn._ The confused images snapped into focus, the bad hunt, the snare he'd been tricked into walking Cas into, all of it. _Djinn. Son of a **bitch**._

Dean could feel a wooden floor beneath him, jagged splinters digging into his cheek. He focused on that sensation, that and the fear in Cas' eyes from the dream and on that last memory before succumbing to the djinn's poison of the creature rounding on Castiel, trapped in a fire circle with the flames burning much higher than Dean knew they should.

There was an endless moment where Dean felt like he was underwater, like he was back in that Wisconsin hunt where he'd tracked a wendigo across a fallen lake and fallen through, sinking like a stone. It had taken years for Dean to chase that hunt out of his dreams, for darker and bloodier nightmares to replace the memory of being able to see the surface only a few feet above him and not having the energy to swim toward it. Djinn dreams felt like that, the memory of cold wrapping around him and whispering he should close his eyes, to just let go.

So Dean focused on the fire, on the crackle of the flames, on the heat until he finally felt the last grip of the djinn's poison burn away. He opened his eyes and found himself on a dirty floor, the room so smoky he couldn't see more than a foot in front of him. He felt a vague sense of pain, one that grew sharper as his senses returned; he was finally able to look down and saw flames licking up around his boots and the lower half of his jeans.

_That_snapped him all the way out of it. He jerked up and quickly beat out the flames, pushing himself to his knees as he tried to orient where he was; he was still in the warehouse but in a different room than when he'd been grabbed. Dean got to his feet and pulled his shirt over his face to try to shut out the smoke. "Cas!" There was no answer. Dean was already light-headed from the smoke but refused to let himself pass out again; he knew it was a miracle he'd woken up from the djinn dream once, if he closed his eyes he wouldn't get that lucky again. "Cas! You son of a bitch, answer me!"

There was only one way out of the room and Dean staggered toward it, the fear in Cas' eyes from the dream propelling him forward. The adjoining room was a large storeroom and this looked more familiar but the fire was raging so strong Dean had to flinch back from the heat. He still pressed forward, using the scent of the oil to guide him and sidestepping the flames as best he could. He tripped over something solid and almost brained himself against the floor; he shook the cobwebs out of his head and felt around, finding what he knew had to be the body of the djinn with Castiel's sword in the middle of its chest. _Good shot, Cas._

Just not fast enough; Dean could see the fire ring now and realized what Cas-in-his-dreams had meant when he'd said it hadn't been set correctly; what had been a circle had degraded into a distorted oval, lines of flames stretching out from the source to engulf the rest of the room. Dean pushed himself back to his feet to see over the waist-high flames, making out Castiel lying crumpled and still in the center of the fire. "Cas!"

No answer. Dean could see Cas' eyes locked open in an unseeing, thousand-yard stare, to all appearances trapped in a djinn dream of his own. More importantly, Dean could see Cas' outstretched hand lying so close to the border of the flames it would only take a millimeter either way to have him in the fire.

Dean remembered Castiel telling him what happened to angels who so much as touched holy fire and could hear the sound of those wings burning themselves out in his dream.

No time to come up with a plan; Dean knew Cas crossing the unbroken circle would be just as bad as him touching the flames, so he took off his jacket and threw it across the trap's border, breaking the circle for at least a few seconds; Castiel heaved in a deep breath of air, as if he'd felt the circle break and Dean knew it was now or never. He forced himself past the border and into the circle, crouching down to catch his breath when the smoke almost overwhelmed him. Castiel was dead weight and Dean almost dropped him before managing to get him up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

With Cas as high above the flames as Dean could get him Dean rushed back out of the circle and made for the warehouse door. He heard the creak of the roof giving way over him just in time to hunker down and cradle Cas against him, putting his back between Castiel and the collapsing timber. He didn't know if the flames still counted as holy fire once they'd spread from the circle but he couldn't take the chance. If they were in a worst case scenario Dean knew he could take a few burns, Cas couldn't.

Dean winced when a splintered beam fell across his shoulders but there was only the one, luck coming through for the first time all day. He looked down to see Castiel's bleary eyes staring up at him, the deja vu from the dream squeezing the breath out of him for a second. He shook that off; the time for freakouts was once he'd gotten them both _out_ of the warehouse inferno. He put Cas back over his shoulder and rushed forward, finally stumbling through the door just as the roof finished collapsing in on itself. He made it a few more feet for safety's sake before collapsing in the patchy grass, dropping Castiel abruptly enough for him to let out a soft _oof_. "Sorry, Cas."

"It's all right." Dean looked over; Castiel's eyes were still wide but there was more focus there now. "Is this real?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so this time."

"Oh. Good. I'd begun to lose track." They were both quiet for a few minutes, watching the smoke from the fire rise against the night sky. "You were right that this hunt was interesting."

"Yeah, guess so. Sorry to drag you into this."

Castiel shook his head. "Zachariah's used spies before. I suppose it's not above him to resort to assassins."

If anything, Dean thought Cas sounded insulted that it had been a monstrous assassin instead of a proper angelic one. "At least you ganked it."

"After it infected me it took you away. When it came back to check on me it thought I had already succumbed as well."

"Its mistake." Dean leaned up on one elbow, trying to clear his head. "You did go under, though. Didn't know angels could even be hit by djinn dreams."

"I was already in the circle. Even if it would normally be impossible, that weakens us. It was almost fortunate, in a way. Since I don't dream the way a human does I shared your dream."

"Worked out okay." Dean felt heat under his skin at just what they'd _shared_in that dream. He got to his knees and hauled Cas up too, half-dragging him over to the car and leaning him against it. "We're just lucky we were able to shake off the poison. It's usually not this easy, the thing must have wanted to keep us alive a while."

Castiel nodded, staring at the burning warehouse and Dean let the next few minutes pass in silence. "Dean, did you really dream of being a firefighter when you were small?"

"Longer than that," he admitted. "Always thought that if I hadn't been stuck in the life that's what I would have done. Still helping people, y'know? Just with less monsters trying to devour me whole."

"You should take this as proof you would be good at it."

Dean stared at Castiel for a long time, wondering whether Castiel's lips would taste as good as they had in the dream. _The hell with it._"That's kind of the thing, Cas," Dean said, watching sudden dread take hold around edges of Castiel's eyes. "Djinn dreams give you what you want. I wanted to be a fireman, so I got that, and I even got to save you since the bigger part of my brain knew you were in trouble." He let the unspoken statement hang in the air, watching the flush slowing creeping over Castiel's cheeks. "Dude," he said, softening his voice. "If you wanted me in the backseat of the car that night instead of going to the brothel all you needed to do was ask."

Castiel stared at the ground, as if thinking that if he avoided looking at Dean he could pretend this conversation was absolutely not happening. When it was clear Dean wasn't going to let him off the hook his jaw clenched. "I didn't think you would care for the suggestion."

"I'm a pretty hard guy to offend, Cas." Castiel still wouldn't look at him; when he crossed his arms, looking like the dictionary _definition_of "uncomfortable," Dean could see the heat blisters on the outside of his fingers from his hand being so close to the holy fire. "Fuck, Cas," he said, feeling Castiel startle when he touched him to take a closer look. "That was way too close a call. You sure you're okay?"

"Yes. If the flames had actually touched me you would know. It would be...dramatic."

"Yeah." Dean's mouth went dry as he remembered seeing flames come from Castiel's eyes. "That happened in the dream," he admitted. "I saw you burn up."

"Even trapped in the dream I could feel how close the fire was coming. You must have sensed my distress and tried to shock yourself awake."

Dean didn't at all like the thought that the fear he'd seen in Cas' eyes then might have been real. "Like I said, Cas. Way too close." Dean pulled his attention away from that image and focused back on Castiel's blistered hand. "We should get this wrapped, it looks bad. It hurt?"

Castiel flexed his hand, wincing like it stung. "I've endured worse."

Dean had a hard time shutting out the memory of those fingers trailing down his back and realized he didn't much want to. When Castiel started to pull his hand away Dean stopped him. "That dream of us in the car," Dean said, watching that flush creep back up over Castiel cheeks and he knew he was never going to get tired of seeing that, "we'd kind of missed the best part." He felt Cas tense, his lips going thin, but he still hesitated. "C'mon, Cas," Dean teased, wanting to see how hard he'd have to push. "You didn't have a problem making the first move when we were both dreaming."

Castiel made a _sound _deep in the back of his throat, one that went straight to Dean's groin; Dean leaned back against the car as Cas knelt close, his breath hot against Dean's lips and his eyes wide, like someone standing on the edge of a cliff. Dean wrapped Cas' tie around one hand and pulled him across the last few inches. Dean didn't bother hiding his grin when he felt Cas' lips against his, feeling adrenaline rush through him. Dean deepened the kiss, Cas' tongue sliding over his feeling even better than it had in the dream. "We got a little time before we need to check in." He slid Cas' shirt out of his waistband and scratched his nails down Cas' back, mirroring Cas doing the same back in the dream. The way Cas moaned at that was just a promise of things to come. Dean fumbled open the rear door of the car, pulling Cas back to his feet. "We got to see the way that dream ended, Cas," he said, whispering right into his ear. "Let's see how it started, huh?"

He let Castiel push him into the back seat, loving every second of Cas kneeling above him. "I don't know what I'm doing," he said, closing the door behind him.

Dean pulled him down into another kiss and started in on his shirt buttons. "Know for a fact you'll figure it out," Dean said, putting a leer into his voice as he finished with the shirt, sliding that and the suit jacket and coat off his shoulders and down to the floorboards. The way Cas' eyes looked when Dean trailed one hand down his chest made him wonder what the hell had been wrong with him that night in Maine, not realizing he'd had this option right in front of him.

At least he could make up for lost time. "C'mon," he said, pulling Cas down for another kiss. "Let's get started."


End file.
